|
how
does the heart still somehow continue its breaking all this time later there are still cracks that relinquish their light up and out into the dark sky will I ever know how deep they go? chasms to the core of me, deeper that shudder open when I find a reminder some days it feels more like there are lines cast down into the rivers that run as deep as rivers can run and the hooks are snagged and dragging forever I remind myself that it is okay to allow the tears to come. they pushpull at the edges, but I don’t need to fight off that pain though it threatened to obliterate me drown me in my own love, black and torpid, washed down dirty alleyways and pooled in dim caves I rained in the all the wrong places some days it feels more like this a steady ache at the base of my throat and its veins so strong pulse still bleeding after all this time is it still open or is it phantom pain reminding me that healing is not linear even as I say the words reminding me that this language does not resolve - speaking protective spells to try and weather the storms as they hit over and over is it phantom pain reminding me that you will always be a spectre in my periphery I am trying to release this hauntology  how
does the heart still somehow continue its breaking all this time later there are still cracks that relinquish their light up and out into the dark sky will I ever know how deep they go? chasms to the core of me, deeper that shudder open when I find a reminder some days it feels more like there are lines cast down into the rivers that run as deep as rivers can run and the hooks are snagged and dragging forever I remind myself that it is okay to allow the tears to come. they pushpull at the edges, but I don’t need to fight off that pain though it threatened to obliterate me drown me in my own love, black and torpid, washed down dirty alleyways and pooled in dim caves I rained in the all the wrong places some days it feels more like this a steady ache at the base of my throat and its veins so strong pulse still bleeding after all this time is it still open or is it phantom pain reminding me that healing is not linear even as I say the words reminding me that this language does not resolve - speaking protective spells to try and weather the storms as they hit over and over is it phantom pain reminding me that you will always be a spectre in my periphery I am trying to release this hauntology  All the creatures are out tonight
The forest swoons and slips in and out of real Light blues at the periphery Things squeal Or whistle The forest lurches with each observation In the dark Leaves and branches Are cracking Crushed Brushed By these Beings They are closer tonight The moon is dark They know when I am listening close And stay quiet mostly Layers Of life They climb And crawl And carefully walk Food Shelter Water Life is moving in the forest shadowly They have found the outcast flesh They are speaking to each other, these people, in sounds I do not understand I am listening and feel the noises move through me tickling my sense edge The sounds reach the tiny hairs on my neck before they enter my ears I can feel you there All around Closer than before Talking - but silent now that I am listening close. The air sits cool and moist against my skin. I am an impatient listener |
J.L.Walsh~ yearning and wonder ~ archives
March 2020
|
RSS Feed
My practice occurs predominantly on the stolen lands of Wurundjeri and Bunurong people, part of the great Kulin Nations. I offer my gratitude, thanks and love to the Elders and Ancestors of this place. I pay my deepest respects to the traditional custodians of these lands, waters and skies, and all kin, without which I would not be able to live and practice. Always was, always will be.
nourishment ~ multiplicity ~ reciprocity
Copyright © 2020